


Stingy

by LSFOREVER



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, I promise it's nothing nobody gets hurt so don't worry, Illegal Street Racing, M/M, Minor Crash, Racing, Side Josh/Eleanor (kind of) (what would their ship name be??), Side Ziall, this is the result of when you put together my obsession with cars/racing and One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/pseuds/LSFOREVER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's boys and cars and sex and a wedding at the end and more cars. What more could you ask for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stingy

**Author's Note:**

> I did this all in one day so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes/typos. Also, I'm sorry if I mistagged something or didn't tag something that needs to be tagged. Let me know if you think I missed one, please and thank you.
> 
> I think too much about cars and the boys, honestly. This may not be a surprise but I kind of wrote this through my eyes, the way I would have things happen if I were Louis, so yeah ... I'm still unsure if I'll add this to mine and [Bonnie's](http://larryismyotpuniverse.tumblr.com/) car series ...
> 
> [Aaya](http://unwrittenheart.tumblr.com/) and [Éloïe](http://bluemariposa.tumblr.com/) deserve mentioning also because they're perfect hand-holders and they had no idea this was a thing. Love you guys!! (You too Bonnie;D)
> 
> — Kat Xx

 

 

**Stingy**

 

 

Louis could already tell the odds were in his favor. Well of course they would be, what with the skies being cloudless, and more than half of the small crowd cheering his name, cheering him on.

The only voices he pays attention to, though, are the ones directly on either side of him—Josh on his left, Eleanor on his right, both handing him water constantly and telling him jokes. “To try and keep you calm,” Eleanor had said when Louis had asked them why they were acting like that. Louis hadn’t replied to her because he didn’t need calming.

Now, only fifteen minutes later, Louis feels as calm as ever. Okay, maybe not. But that’s only because Eleanor and Josh are increasingly getting more and more worried themselves, which is transferring to Louis. He’s not worried about the race, though—not at all. He was born ready for this, born ready for any and all races thrown his way, and this one won’t be the one to change that.

There’s a whole other reason Louis is more calm than ever, besides having his two best friends in the world on either side of him: Stingy.

In front of him, past the small gaggle of people that’s collected over the past half hour behind the velvet ropes, is his 1958 Corvette Stingray named Stingy, shining brightly under the few large stage lights Mr Cowell was able to rent for the night.

Just looking at it sends a thrill through Louis’ bones, down to the tips of his toes and the top of his head, and if he were any normal person, he’d probably be worried about people thinking he’s a lunatic for smiling widely at a car for no reason.

He doesn’t have no reason for staring like he is, though. And this isn’t just any old car you see on the streets—no. The Corvette, protected by velvet ropes keeping people back at least fifteen feet, might be the prettiest thing Louis has ever seen.

It’s sleek, shiny, grayish blue paint job at been Louis’ mum’s idea. “It matches your eyes almost completely,” Louis’ mum had explained after showing him the color. While fixing it up with Josh and Eleanor, Louis had picked out a dark, navy blue interior with gray trim. After everything was finished Eleanor made sure to wipe down every single surface of the Corvette with a special cloth to make sure it was perfectly clean, and earlier this morning had been the first time they’ve started the car since finishing it over a month ago.

Louis remembers perfectly well seeing the Corvette for the first time, all beaten down and rusty. He could barely start the engine after he bought it off the owner, who was going blind and selling everything on her land so she could go live with her daughter. She’d been a neighbor of Louis’ almost his whole life growing up, so he knew her well, but he didn’t know her husband, who had died when Louis was sixteen, had been hiding a few very old, very rare cars in the barn.

He’s glad he’d gone home for a visit then, because he wouldn’t be sitting fifteen feet away from the most beautiful car he’s ever seen, nor would he have two other beaten down cars in the back of his garage waiting to be fixed up once he’s done with this race.

Which reminds him: his opponent was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, and if they wait any longer to get here they’ll have to race another night. Soon word will be getting out that there’s a group of people gathered in a quieter part of the city, and if they don’t hurry the police will show up and shut everything down.

Illegal street racing may not be what Louis was going for while growing up, but it’s better than he ever could’ve imagined.

To his right Eleanor is suddenly saying something about the person he’s racing tonight. Apparently they’ve finally showed up, and the few people Mr Cowell hired as “security guards” are ushering people out of the way so they can open up the velvet ropes for his opponent to drive their car into the circle too.

Louis is curious as to what car they’ll be driving; he’s also curious as to who his opponent is. There have been rumors for weeks, as well as murmurs the whole time Louis’ been here, that his opponent is none other than Harry Styles, which wouldn’t surprise him, really, since he’s never actually raced against this Styles guy.

The whole three years Louis’ been collecting cars and fixing them up so he can participate in street races like this he has only ever heard of this Harry Styles. Plenty of other people that he’s raced against have told stories about when they raced with Styles, and how shocked they were when they’d lost the race by a few minutes or more.

Louis had beat them, the ones who’ve said they’ve raced against Harry Styles, so he’s not too worried, but at the same time, they weren’t easy people to beat. Still, he’s never seen the man, never even heard wind of him even showing up at any of Louis’ races, let alone try and race against him, and it’s been three years.

Of course he’s always been curious as to why this Harry guy has never shown up anywhere near Louis or why he’s never challenged Louis before, like most other street racers he knows by name, but he doesn’t ever let that get him down. He’s a great racer and he knows this, has only lost two out of the twenty-four races he’s been in, and those were the very first two races he’d ever raced.

He’s even caught the attention of one of Formula 1’s best racers, Lewis Hamilton from the Mercedes team. It was only a brief Tweet saying that he’d heard of Louis’ most recent win and was congratulating him, but it was enough to make Mr Cowell promote Louis as his best racer.

He’s not trying to gloat, but if this Harry guy is as good as people say, Louis should still have no problem.

It’s only a minute later that they see the opponent’s car sidle in next to Louis’, and he’s surprise, to say the least. The silver Ferrari DINO that comes to a stop almost perfectly aligned with his Corvette is, well, beautiful indeed, but not what he’d been expecting. He’s never raced against a Ferrari, but he figures it can’t be too hard. It may be a little faster and newer, but Louis isn’t going to think about that.

What he wants to think about and pay attention to is the tall lad stepping out from the driver’s side, eyes shielded with sunglasses even though it’s one in the morning, and long, curly hair pulled back in a bun. Louis’ eyes travel down the expanse of his body: broad shoulders, toned stomach, and slight love-handles barely hidden by the light gray v-neck; long, slender legs encased in black jeans that are tight enough to rival Louis’; and brown boots with scuffs on the toes.

Louis’ never seen this man in his life—he would know if he had because holy damn, if they weren’t rivals for the night Louis would definitely be on him like a hawk—which has him come to the realization that the rumors were true. Harry Styles is shutting the door do his Ferrari, walking around the back, and sliding the glasses off his face to reveal bright green eyes. Even from here Louis can see how beautiful they are.

From what he’s heard, Harry Styles is around Louis’ age, though after taking a good long look at his face, he comes to the conclusion that he must be at least a year or so younger than Louis’ 24. When Harry finally looks away from the raven haired man whispering beside him, his eyes lock with Louis and he offers a smile.

Louis smiles in return, a real, genuine smile, because he’s nothing if not a nice player. Before Harry and who Louis guesses is his right hand man are to the cushiony bench Louis is sitting on, they’re intercepted by one of the officials named Liam that is at every race Louis attends—and who is also a close friend. Liam does all the paperwork for the races, under Mr Cowell’s supervision, of course, and currently he’s having Harry sign the nondisclosure form.

“He’s as handsome as people say,” Eleanor murmurs only loud enough for Louis and Josh to hear.

Josh grunts, mumbling something about appearances don’t matter, but Louis sends a wink privately to Eleanor so that she knows he agrees. Josh has always been the more serious out of the three of them, and though Louis’ thankful for that, he also sometimes wishes he were a bit more laid back sometimes.

As the raven haired boy doesn’t seem to be needed at the moment, he picks his way slowly over to where Louis is sitting, eyeing the arms he has draped over both Eleanor and Josh’s shoulders. He seems friendly enough, giving each of them a smile before smiling the widest at Louis.

Louis smiles back, retracting both of his arms so he can extend one out for a handshake. “Louis Tomlinson,” raven haired boy greets, shaking his hand quite enthusiastically. Louis is glad he’s not rude like the other right hand mans he’s met. “I’m Zayn Malik. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Ah, and you too,” Louis replies. He taps Josh’s thigh and whispers at him to sit on the other side of Eleanor, then offers the empty space to Zayn.

As Zayn sits, he glances up at Harry, who sends him a confident smile, then turns back to Liam. “I’ve been to every one of your races since you beat Garyn last year,Z “ Zayn says. “And I must say, I’m pretty excited that Harry’s finally agreed to race you.”

“Hm. I beat Garyn Heely two years ago, I think it was, but that doesn’t matter…”

“So you’ve been coming to all of Louis’ races, rather than Harry?” Josh asks with curious eyes.

Louis is about to glare at him—he was going to ask that—but the Harry Styles is standing in front of them and answering. “He sure has. I don’t really like being at races unless I’m in them,” he explains. He then reaches a hand out; Louis accepts it eagerly, feeling his smile widen at the feel of Harry’s large, warm hand engulfing his.

Zayn scoots over, patting the space between him and Louis, and when Harry sits Louis gets a whiff of his cologne. He has to avert his eyes quickly and focus them on his Corvette, to clear his mind of everything but the present and the race that’s about to start any minute now.

“Harry Styles,” Harry says brightly, waving at Josh and Eleanor on the other side of Louis in a friendly way. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“I already said that,” Zayn says with a smile.

“Shut up, twat,” Harry says with a smile.

“Handsome and funny,” Eleanor whispers behind Louis.

Distantly Louis hears someone yell that the racers need to get ready, but it seems like Harry is as disinterested in the race at the moment as Louis is, since he doesn’t even break eye contact as he says, “If you don’t turn out to be a douche like Tom and Nick are we might just invite you lot over for dinner after.”

“Oh my god, I hate Tom. He gave me a black eye once,” Louis truthfully informs with a serious nod when both Harry’s and Zayn’s eyes go wide. “Yeah,” he adds. “When I beat him by two minutes the first thing he did after getting out of his Firebird was punch me and yell that I’d been cheating.”

“Oh! I remember that,” Zayn says. He snaps his fingers a few times, continues, “Yeah, back in January. I remember rushing home to Harry and Niall to tell them about that.”

“Who’s Niall?” Josh asks at the same time that Louis says, “Nick’s hated me ever since too, since, you know, they’re best friends and all.”

Harry cynical as he says, “Nick’s hated me ever since I rejected him. Always had a big head, Nick has. Niall’s our other roommate. Zayn’s boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zayn says hotly, glaring at Harry though it’s totally unconvincing.

Louis hears Eleanor’s soft snort behind him, and looks back when he hears the telltale clicking of her high heels on the pavement. Frowning, he asks Josh, “What’s up with her?”

Josh looks a little disappointed, eyes still trained on her retreating form. “Muttered something about all the hotties being gay or summat.”

Instantly Louis drapes his arm over Josh’s shoulders and gives him a tight side hug, both Harry and Zayn forgotten at the moment. “She’ll come around,” Louis whispers, knowing that he always says this and that it hasn’t happened yet. They’ve all three been best friends since secondary school, and the whole time Josh has had a massive crush on Eleanor; Louis’ always been there or Josh whenever Eleanor’s dated another guy, or whenever Eleanor gets upset about not being able to date a guy, and he always get’s slightly mad at her when he sees the sad longing in Josh’s eyes.

“Hopefully,” Josh whispers back. After a second or two, he schools his face into one that resembles happiness, and pushes Louis away slightly. “Stop worrying about me, you’ve got a race to concentrate on.”

Louis’ eyes snap back to Harry and Zayn, who have both been silent this whole time. Their eyes are cast towards the car, like they were clearly trying not to listen, which makes Louis like them even more. “Josh is right. We’d better start getting ready.”

“Come on Harry.” Zayn stands up and stretches, and—okay, nobody can really blame Louis for sneaking glances, can they? He’s a gay man, and even if he weren’t he’d still be able to appreciate how beautiful Zayn is.

Harry stand up too, blocking Louis’ view of Zayn. Louis looks up and sees Harry looking at him curiously, to which Louis raises his eyebrow. Harry looks away, but he’s smiling, so Louis guesses he got his answer.

“You too Louis,” Josh says, dragging him up from the bench. The surrounding people are now starting to turn their heads away from the announcer and the cars, now watching Harry and Louis.

Louis rakes his eyes up Harry’s body again, knowing he’s not being subtle at all, and when he reaches Harry’s eyes, Harry’s blushing and smiling quite shyly. “What year?” he asks as Josh starts wrapping gauze around the middle of his hands so they don’t chafe on the steering wheel. He pays no attention to Josh, rather Harry and the way Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, looking confused. “What year’s the Ferrari?”

“Oh.” Harry blushes minutely before answering. “1972.”

“I reckon it’s more than my 290 horsepower but I don’t think I’ll have a problem keeping up.” Louis may be nice, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little before-competition fun, right?

Harry seems to realize this, since he smiles wide and takes the helmet Zayn’s handing him, amusement in his eyes. “I have no doubt you can keep up,” he answers quietly. Zayn’s muttering at him to get a move on, but Harry stays put long enough to whisper, “But you know just as well as I do that it’s much more fun actually racing someone rather than driving ahead of them the whole time.”

Louis steps forward after Josh opens the driver door of the Corvette, taking his helmet and calling over to Harry loud enough for everyone to hear, “Very true. Oh, and good luck! I don’t think you’ll need it!”

“Louis!” Josh scolds, snatching the helmet out of his hands and putting it over Louis’ head himself. As he’s strapping together the chin straps, he’s muttering, “You’re not supposed to say that after saying good luck. You’re supposed to act like they actually need it.”

“But I’m not a liar,” replies Louis with a pointed look at Josh through the Plexiglas. “You know I hate lying, so why would I just to make myself look better?”

“Whatever. Just get in the car, yeah?”

“Wait!” They both hear Eleanor yell, and turn around as she comes running up and throws her arms around Louis’ neck. “You better win that money. We need it for a new transmission for the Camaro.”

Louis sighs. She’s been reminding him of this sixty times every hour for the past two weeks, and it’s getting a little annoying. “I know, I know.” He rolls his eyes. “Text me mum that I love her, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Eleanor and Josh say at the same time.

There’s a whistle, Louis glancing over to see Harry already ready to start the Ferrari. He quickly slips into the Corvette and feels’ more relaxed than he has all day. The leather under him, the low roof above him, even the flowery car incense Eleanor had insisted on this morning, all seem to make Louis melt back into the seat and hum contentedly.

This is what he grew up dreaming of. Maybe in his dreams he wasn’t in a Corvette about to start a race, rather a Formula 1 racecar with the Mercedes symbol painted on every surface, but this is more than good enough. The feeling he gets as he’s about to start a race is better than any other feeling he’s ever felt—and that includes orgasms. The men he’s been with before have only been quick flings, racing always coming before his love-live, and none of them have ever come close to making him feel as happy as he does behind the steering wheel right before a race.

Someone steps out from the crowd holding a green flag, standing on the little round stand right ahead of his and Harry’s cars. Knowing the race is about to start, Louis looks over at Harry through the windows, finds Harry already staring back, and waves at him with a smile.

Harry smiles and waves back, but then a loud, booming voice is silencing all other noises, explaining the rules of the race that Louis’ already memorized. He puts his seatbelt on, making sure it’s secure around his waist and over his shoulder, then makes sure the gas and brake pedals aren’t sticking.

Soon enough, the booming voice yells, “Racers! Start your engines!”

The small crowd’s cheers are drown out once Louis turns the key and the Corvette’s engine comes to life. The sound is just as beautiful as the car itself, purring loudly and wonderfully and vibrating the seat under him. Louis already feels on top of the world.

With one last glance at Harry, Louis revs the engine with a smirk, and is off as soon as the person holding the green flag in front of them waves it eagerly above his head. At one in the morning this part of the city is deserted, most of the time. Louis’ raced here twice already and he’s spent plenty of time walking and driving around the streets here, memorizing the rout and where all the potholes are and searching for any shortcuts.

The first part of the track, Louis knows, is straight for ten blocks, and then there’s a sharp left turn that Louis feels he might have a small bit of trouble with, considering he’s on the left side of the street. He trusts Harry not to bump into him or come too close to cut him off, though, because anybody in their right mind would never do anything stupid like that with  Ferrari.

Just like Louis had thought, the Ferrari is faster, but Harry doesn’t seem to be pushing it too fast at the moment. Louis guesses he’s saving the fuel and horsepower for later on when he’ll really need it.

There are no cars in the whole ten block stretch, none driving straight across or turning onto the street they’re on, but even though there aren’t, he’s still got Josh yelling in his ear.

A couple of races ago, Josh had suggested they put a wireless Bluetooth in his helmet that connected to Josh’s Bluetooth and phone. At every one of these races, there’s always someone in a helicopter flying above them, videoing the race from above; it shows up on screens back at the starting/finish line, and Josh always watches that screen in particular so he can warn Louis of any oncoming traffic.

Right now, though, Josh is talking about how Mr Cowell almost wasn’t able to get a licensed helicopter pilot that was willing to fly for the race, and Louis is two seconds away from snapping at him to shut up, when suddenly, Josh says, “Red Lexus, two blocks down on the right. Can’t tell if they’re turning or not. Be careful.”

“Yeah, thanks,” mutters Louis, eyes snapping to where Josh had said the oncoming car would be in a few seconds. He chances a quick glance at Harry, who looks at him at the same time. Just then, the red Lexus comes to a stop at the stop sign and Louis points at it quickly, looking back at the road in front of him after Harry glances where he’s pointing.

He doesn’t know why he did it, since he’s usually against the idea of helping his opponent, but at the same time they both start to speed up and start honking their horn, effectively stopping the Lexus before it got even two feet into the intersection. They speed by, Louis glancing in his rearview mirror and watching the Lexus speed across the intersection as if they were afraid there would be more illegally racing cars.

The whole time Josh had been quiet, but now that Louis’ past it, he says quietly, “How did Harry know it was there?” He sounds bewildered. Louis stamps his mouth shut and chants over and over in his mind that this is the one thing he will never be able to tell Josh, or else Josh would be absolutely furious. “Zayn’s standing five feet away, talking with who I assume is Niall on the phone, not paying attention to any of the screens. There’s no way Harry could’ve know…”

“I don’t think it matters, does it?” Louis snaps, swerving around a large pothole. “Just concentrate on the screen and please stop talking about Mr Cowell’s bookings. Christ.”

The turn comes soon enough—ten blocks in a speeding Corvette and Ferrari is nothing—and like Louis had hoped, Harry does a wide turn, leaving Louis with more than enough room to stomp on the brake and crank the steering wheel to the left, nailing the sharp turn spot on.

Harry is ahead of him by just a few yards, but Louis catches up quickly, chortling at a couple of teenagers that jump back from the edge of the sidewalk as Louis and Harry zoom by.

After the first sharp turn, Louis knows there is a wider turn onto a diagonal facing street that stretches for a bit before reaching a two-lane roundabout. Both he and Harry pass through all of those quite easily, one of them gaining a few yards here or there before the other one catches up, and going back and forth like that.

Josh is quiet in Louis’ ear, thank the stars, up until they get to the roundabout, and then he’s suddenly whisper-yelling in Louis’ ear that there’s two cars coming in from the other side of the roundabout, almost there, and that they seem to have no idea of Louis and Harry’s whereabouts. In order to make it back to the finish line, they’ll have to drive on the roundabout the wrong way, and immediately Louis turns to look at Harry.

After taking a couple of glances at Harry and slowing down, Harry seems to notice, slowing down just a little too and taking quick glances at Louis. Louis holds up the number two with his fingers, then points in front of them, then makes a circular motion with his fingers. Harry looks confused for all of two seconds before the headlights of the two cars slowing down through the roundabout become visible.

Since they’re both in the same lane, Louis and Harry will be able to speed through, but only one at a time. Louis is expecting Harry to speed up ahead of him and cut him off, but instead Harry sows down and pulls up behind Louis, to which Josh starts yelling in his ear _again_ about Harry knowing again without anyone telling him.

He keeps his mouth shut, only opening it to tell Josh to be quiet so he can maneuver through without running into the curb or the other cars. Josh quiets right up. Though Harry let Louis go first, he still keeps close behind him, like real close, close enough to worry Louis slightly.

His mind is taken off that, however, when the two cars in the roundabout start hocking and swerving closer to the curb to get away from both Harry and Louis, who speed through it without complications, and out through the other side triumphantly.

As he’d suspected, Harry speeds out as soon as their onto the regular two-lane road again, taking place next to Louis again. Louis remembers there being a few more turns, a couple of long stretches, and a large highway bridge they’ll have to split up under, before reaching the finish line, but none of that concerns Louis in the slightest.

What he’s suddenly worried about is the fact that Harry is using his Ferrari’s speed to his advantage now, speeding ahead about two car lengths and inching towards the middle of the road so even if Louis did push the Corvette harder and catch up, he’d have a real hard time squeezing between the Ferrari and the curb to get past him.

“Fuck, he is good,” Josh mutters. “But you’re better. Come on, Lou, I know you can handle a squeeze-by like this, and I know Stingy—” the Corvette’s name, picked by Louis himself “—isn’t near his maximum speed yet. Come on, love, you can do this. That’s it, slowly inch ahead. I doubt he’ll be pushing much faster any time soon, not with the upcoming turn.”

With the pep talk crowding his mind, Louis smiles and slowly starts speeding up, mindful of the turn, and then speeding up again. Harry is still staying in the middle, but he doesn’t seem to be trying to get ahead anymore, so it takes next to nothing for Louis to inch his way between Harry and the curb, and then to speed ahead.

The rest of the race goes more or less like this, both of them racing ahead of each other, rounding turns fairly, Louis signaling to Harry when there’s oncoming traffic since he doesn’t have anyone telling him in his ear.

It’s a fun race, more fun than competitive, if Louis does say so himself, which is why when they come close to the two small tunnels running under the main highway, just two blocks away from the finish line, he’s more than surprised when Harry turns on some hidden turbos or something as his Ferrari accelerates so fast and so suddenly and Louis is staring at taillights way ahead of him.

“What the fuck!” bellows Josh into his ear.

“Josh!” Louis yells right back, stomping on the gas pedal and pushing Stingy to his limits. It gets him much further than he’d expected; he’s right behind Harry again. “Yell in my ear one more fucking time and you’re fired! I know what I’m doing and I don’t need your commentary.”

Louis feels a little bad about yelling at Josh like that since Josh is his best friend, but he seriously doesn’t need someone yelling in his ear while he’s trying to figure out a way around Harry so he can win the five grand.

This may be the only reason why he wouldn’t like to race in Formula 1, since he gets real irritated real quick if someone’s yelling in his ear and telling him how to fucking race. He thinks he’d be fine with Josh telling him quietly if someone was driving up behind him or if there was a wreck in front of him, but all the extra commentary doesn’t help one bit, actually makes pisses Louis off.

The bridge is visible now, and the street widens and splits apart so the right lane goes through the right tunnel, the left lane going through the left tunnel. Louis knows for a fact that going through the right tunnel will get him to the finish line faster, but he’s still slightly worried because of how fast Harry is going.

If he does have illegal turbo boosters or something stupid like that, he would use them while in the tunnel where nobody, not even the helicopter above them, could see, and he would win easily.

Louis really hopes Harry wouldn’t go against the rules like that, but he’s never going to go through the left tunnel, so he goes as fast as he can to push forward and around to the other side of Harry, veering to the right and pushing Stingy even harder. He can hear Harry behind him revving the engine real loud, but all sound accept for Stingy is cut off when he enters the tunnel.

Despite he’s pushing Stingy to his limits, he tries to push harder, hearing an odd sound that he should definitely not be hearing. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s loud and echoing and he really hopes it isn’t him as he emerges from the other side of the tunnel and into the dark night again.

Ahead of him he can see the lights of the few cars parked around the finish line, as well as the small crowd tethered back my the velvet ropes, and the large portable screens off to the side that he knows Josh and Eleanor are at.

He doesn’t see Harry anywhere ahead of him, and he whoops and hollers as he rushes forward.

That is, until Josh is saying in his ear, “Where’s Harry? You’re almost past the second to last block, but Harry hasn’t come out of the tunnels yet. Just—just keep going. I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”

But he isn’t. Louis looks in all the rearview mirrors and doesn’t see any sign of Harry emerging from the left tunnel. Through the speaker in his helmet he can hear Zayn yelling, and Josh trying to calm him down, reassure him, but it’s to no avail.

Panic sets in the pit of Louis’ stomach, spreading throughout his bones, and before he even registers what he’s doing the Corvette is screeching to a halt, then facing the opposite direction, facing the tunnels. Josh is yelling in his ear again. “What the hell are you doing Louis?! I told you it’d be fine!”

But Louis drowns him out, unbuckling the chin strap of his helmet and throwing it onto the floor of the passenger side. He can see the headlights of Harry’s stopped Ferrari ahead of him as he enters the tunnel, and slows down to a stop as close as he’s willing to get.

Louis unbuckles himself and throws himself out of Stingy as fast as possible, seeing smoke, taking in the way the passenger side of Harry’s Ferrari is flat against the tunnel wall—oh thank he stars it was the passenger side. As Louis gets closer the driver’s door is flung open, then out comes Harry, stumbling and just barely falling before Louis rushes up and catches him under his armpits.

Harry’s helmet is already off and he’s staring wide-eyed at Louis like Louis is crazy, and he soon voices his thoughts that match his stare perfectly. “What are you doing? Go win the race, Louis. I’m fine.”

Louis frowns, stays standing close as Harry finds his balance again and shakes out his curls that had fallen out of the bun. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Front left tire when flat, I think from some broken glass, and I ran into the side of the tunnel. It wasn’t on my side so it only stunned me a little, but I promise I’m fine… Why did you come back?”

Louis… Louis doesn’t know why he came back, honestly, but he had to make sure Harry was okay. Slowly, he replies with, “I… I don’t know. But I would feel horrible if something bad happened to you and I finished the race anyway.” Then a thought occurred to him: that must be what he heard echoing in the tunnels just a little bit ago.

“Well now you know I’m alright, so go. I can’t drive George past the finish line anyway, so what’s it matter?” Harry nudges Louis’ shoulder with his, and points at Stingy.

George… That must be the Ferrari’s name. Louis’ll have to ask him about that later; what’s important right now and dragging Harry to Stingy and forcing him to sit in the passenger seat. “I can’t leave you here by yourself when you could be hurt,” he explains at Harry’s bewildered expression. “That would be wrong of me.”

“So you’re going to drive across the finish line with your opponent in your car? Never heard of that, but thanks,” Harry says after Louis gets back in and pulls his seatbelt back on. “Here.” Harry hands him his helmet, then puts his own seatbelt on.

Louis doesn’t bother with the helmet, sticking it behind him and putting the Corvette back into drive. “I’ll split with you,” Louis says as he races down the road towards the finish line. Glancing quickly at Harry, he continues. “Since you are technically passing the finish line at the same time as me, just without your—without George, you still deserve some of it, yeah? And I figure twenty-five hundred should help out at least a little with the damage.”

“Oh fuck—Zayn’s gonna kill me!”

“It wasn’t your fault though,” Louis points out. “So he can’t be too mad at you.”

“Yeah but the roads were supposed to be cleared of all obstacles right before the race. They obviously didn’t clear the tunnels or the glass or otherwise I’d have beat you.”

Louis scoffs, screeching to a stop right after they pass the finish line. Already Josh is banging on his window, yelling at him to open the door, but Louis ignores him in favor of looking at Harry and saying with a smirk, “Now, don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m an easy feat. That might come to bite you in the arse someday.”

Harry snickers, wrenching the door open and stepping out instead of answering. Louis finally opens his own door and is instantly engulfed in Josh’s and Eleanor’s arms, as well as cheers from the crowd. He hugs back, and isn’t surprised when Josh asks, “What the hell, Louis? I mean, congrats on the win and everything, but you brought him with you?”

“It was only fair.” Louis shrugs, glancing back to see Harry and Zayn walking around Stingy and towards them. Zayn looks upset, but he smiles brightly at Louis.

“Thanks for bringing Harry back,” he says once close enough. “And for making sure he’s alright. I’m gonna have to have some words with Cowell or something. _Glass on the road_ —seriously!”

“Zayn, I’m alright and that’s all that matters right now, yeah? Why don’t we sit down for a little bit.”

-

Louis isn’t feeling the usual rush after winning a race—no, what Louis is feeling is much better. He feels high, like he’s floating, and Harry is standing right next to him, their shoulders touching, as the five grand is split in half between them.

They’ve signed the necessary papers, given out autographs, explained everything that happened and why they both came back in Louis’ Corvette to the reporter for Mr Cowell’s website, and now all that’s left to do, at three in the morning, and collect their prize and be on their way.

Zayn has already called Niall to bring a tow truck, and he’s down at the bridge with Niall helping with that right now. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Josh are both making sure Stingy is safe enough and still in good enough condition to be driven back home, and Louis can’t help the smiles he sends Harry every fifteen seconds.

“We might have to rent a couple hotel rooms and wait for taxi services to start up in the morning,” Josh says, suddenly standing beside Louis. Louis only jumps a little, feels himself flush a little as Harry’s hand settles into the small of his back to help him keep stable. “Stingy’s overheated and it would be really unsafe to drive back now.”

“Okay,” Louis says, pocketing the money and peering around Josh at his Corvette.

Eleanor is currently tinkering with something under the hood; Louis may be gay, but he knows that if any straight man—let alone Josh—were to see Eleanor like this, in a short dress with tall heels, bent over under the hood of a Corvette, well… It’s showing on Josh’s face right now, as a matter of fact, as he looks back at Stingy and Eleanor.

“If you don’t talk to her soon I’m kicking you both out of my house,” Louis says sternly.

Josh sighs, but he agrees and walks back over to Eleanor and Stingy. The crowd has since gotten way smaller, just a few people still milling about to get a good look at the Corvette or to congratulate Louis and Harry on the win.

Louis is just about to find a decent hotel online and call for some bookings when Harry’s hand on his wrist stops him. “No hotel is going to accept you this time in the morning, and I doubt there are any decent motels anywhere.”

The contact has Louis’ skin tingling, and he’s glad they’re alone now. Quietly, he asks, “Then what you suggest we do? Three people can’t sleep in a tiny Corvette.”

“Come back to mine,” replies Harry, completely serious. Louis has now reached the point of feeling so high he might as well be in space—or something equally ridiculous. He raises a curious eyebrow, urging Harry to elaborate. “There’s plenty of space for all three of you. Come on, it’s the least I could do after you came back for me like that.”

“Alright then. Thank you. You‘ve got room for Stingy, right?”

“Definitely,” Harry replies, waving like it’s no big deal. “We’ve got more than enough room.”

-

Not only can Harry drive, but he can cook as well. The meal consists of homemade muffins from the morning before, and some homemade jam and scrambled eggs. It’s nothing too fancy, but the eggs seem to melt in his mouth and the jam is so sweet he’s suddenly afraid of cavities.

They’ve met Niall, who is currently sitting next to Zayn and across from Eleanor, and he’s a right catch, he is. Funny lad, someone Louis knows would be an absolutely great friend.

He just hopes this isn’t a onetime thing, Harry letting them stay here because they have nowhere else to go for the night. He really hopes Harry will keep in contact.

When Harry had mentioned flat earlier while they were driving behind Niall’s tow truck in front of them—Stingy made it to Harry’s building, but he surely wouldn’t have made it to Louis’ garage right outside London—this is not what Louis had imagined: a whole building all to himself.

Technically it’s Harry’s father’s building, who is a salesman for Lamborghini, but Harry himself has two whole floors near the top and outside the large wall window is the perfect skyline of London. Along with a regular elevator, there’s a much larger elevator that is much more durable, and earlier Louis found out it was for the cars. The floor below them is a full garage, and the one they’re on now is like a huge penthouse with three bedrooms.

Louis’ a bit curious about the sleeping arrangements, but right now he’s stuffing his face full of wonderful food and trying not to laugh too hard and Niall’s amazing Bill Cosby impression.

Everybody is more than exhausted by now, and conversation seems to be slowing down considerably. Louis knows it won’t be long before someone yawns and signals it’s time for sleep, and—oh. There’s the first yawn, given by none other than Harry Styles himself.

Louis really wants to kiss him.

“You need to get to bed,” Niall pokes Harry’s cheek, voicing everybody’s thoughts. “We all do.”

Louis stays put while Niall and Zayn clean up the dishes from the table and put them in the sink, and then still as Zayn points out where the door to the third bedroom is. “I’ll be fine on the couch,” Louis murmurs when Josh tries offering him the room. “You stop being a git and go cuddle Ellie to sleep.”

At that, Josh scampers off after Eleanor, then Zayn follows Niall to their room, and soon it’s just Louis and Harry sitting at the kitchen table. Harry looks like he’s about to drop dead or something, so Louis helps him up from the table and lets Harry lean on him as he leads the way to the last door that hadn’t been pointed out.

The far wall in Harry’s bedroom is all glass also, the twinkling lights of the city below illuminating the room in a nice way. Louis helps Harry over to the bed, thankful that Harry had already changed into night clothes earlier before fixing up the meal. Louis wouldn’t be able to handle helping Harry get undressed and redressed. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, and Harry is too tired for that to be right.

After tucking the blankets up over Harry’s shoulders, Louis clicks the lamp off, but Harry calls his name quite groggily as soon as he turns towards the door. Harry is looking up at him with wide, albeit sleepy, eyes, arm outstretched from under the covers towards him.

“Y’can’t sleep on a couch. Yer a winner,” he mumbles.

This catches Louis by surprise—is… is Harry asking him to sleep with him? Obviously not _sleep_ with him, just sleep in the same bed…

But still. Louis is surprised and a little confused and a lot eager and a little nervous, so after rounding to the other side, stripping down to his boxer-briefs and t-shirt, and slipping in under the covers, he whispers, “I can’t promise you a beautiful sight in the morning.”

Harry rolls over, and, seeming to forget about personal space being an actual thing—not that Louis minds at all because he _doesn’t_ —he snuggles in real close, head resting on Louis’ chest, hand on Louis’ stomach, and ankles hooked with Louis’. Harry smells good and he feels nice cuddled to Louis like this, and Louis is glad he finally got to meet him tonight.

-

When Louis wakes up he thinks he’s still dreaming. He must be, because he’s sure as hell he fell asleep in Harry’s bed just a hours before, so the tight, wet heat surrounding his hard cock really can’t be possible at the moment. He must be dreaming; that’s the only reasonable explanation for this.

That is, until he lifts the covers and sees dark brown curls fanning out over his stomach, and bright pink lips wrapped around the base of his cock. “Fuck,” he mutters, and Harry’s eyes shoot up to his faster than anything he’s ever seen before. “Fuck, Harry,” he repeats quieter this time, throwing his head back in a silent moan as Harry drags his tongue across his slit again.

So it isn’t a dream. Well, that’s good to know.

He’s closer than he thought—must be why he’d woken—and when Harry pulls up enough to wrap his hand around the base of his cock so that he can twist and pull along with the suction of his mouth, Louis is in heaven. “Ah—shit,” he whispers, clutching the sheets tightly in his fingers, hips bucking lightly.

Louis hopes Harry’d been at it for a decent amount of time before Louis woke up because he’s about to come and it would be very embarrassing if Harry just started. He isn’t that easy, really.

Harry hums around him when Louis grunts, adding to the sparks shooting up and down Louis’ spine. He does something spectacular with his tongue, pressing it to the ridge right under the crown, or something. Louis isn’t sure. He’s about to come—“Gonna come.”—so he has every right to be as incoherent as he is.

Harry hums again, twists his fist just right, and continues lapping at the slit, and soon enough, Louis is biting back a moan of Harry’s name and shooting down Harry’s throat.

Not a moment after Louis’ done coming, Harry crawls back up the bed. He too is naked, Louis notes as he sits up in Louis’ lap and wraps a hand around his own hard, leaking cock. It’s a nice cock, probably the nicest Louis’ ever seen, and so he slaps Harry’s hand away and takes over.

Harry keels over, whimpering as Louis pumps his hand up and down as fast as he can without hurting Harry, only Harry’s precome there to glide the way. Louis feels himself twitch again, still half hard since Harry’s bum and sitting right over it and pushing back every time Louis runs his thumb over Harry’s head.

Harry’s not as good as keeping his sounds down, Louis notices, so he uses he free hand to grab Harry’s chin and pull his face up from Louis’ chest, searching his eyes for any hesitancy. When he finds none, Louis presses his lips to Harry and stifles his sounds, letting Harry lick into his mouth however he wants.

Just a minute later Harry is spilling into Louis’ hand, on Louis’ stomach, his breath hitching and eyes flying open like even he’s surprised it happened. Maybe he is.

“G’mornin’,” Harry whispers, clearly out of breath. He sits back up, and Louis sees the bright smile he sporting, and the twinkling in his eyes.

Louis drags his nails lightly over Harry’s thighs, settles them about halfway up, and whispers back, “Hi love. Great morning indeed.”

Harry bites his lip, looking hesitant for the first time all morning. Finally, after Louis smiles at him and massages his thighs for a little bit, Harry says, “You were humping me bum in your sleep.”

“Was I?” Louis isn’t embarrassed. He would be if he’d have woken up while he was humping Harry, but Harry clearly didn’t seem to mind, liked it actually, since he gave Louis an amazing blow job, so Louis isn’t embarrassed one bit. It seems like Harry’s the one embarrassed, actually, judging from the way his cheeks are redder than a tomato. “Hm. Oh well.”

Harry giggles, a soft jingling sound that makes Louis’ stomach flutter. Then his face gets serious and he asks quietly, gesturing at the two of them, “I, um, was wondering what you th-think this is. Or what you, um want it to be.”

Louis already knows his answer, but he kind of thinks Harry’s worried look is cute, so he waits a few long seconds before answering truthfully. “Well I definitely don’t want it to be a onetime thing, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Looking relieved, Harry sinks back down so his face is resting in Louis’ neck. “Me too,” he whispers.

“Well. You’ll have to give me your number so I can call you later and inform you about a very spontaneous date next Friday that I’m planning, and you’ll also have to act completely surprised when I call you. Sound like a deal?”

With a wriggle of his hips, Harry kisses Louis’ neck, and Louis gasps as his now fully hard again cock slips between Harry’s bumcheeks. “Only if you fuck me first,” whispers Harry against the column of Louis’ throat.

“You promise to stay quiet?” Louis whispers back. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and tugs, only hard enough for Harry to actually feel it but not enough to hurt him.

Harry gasps, his cock giving a twitch between them, and agrees, “Yeah, promise.”

“Good. Now please tell me you you’ve hidden lube in your bedroom and not just your car, because I’ve made that mistake before and I had to run down to get it… It was quite embarrassing.”

Harry laughs again as he reaches over to the bedside table and starts searching in the drawer, and Louis ignores the constant buzzing of his phone on the bedside table in favor of licking Harry’s lips.

-

**One Year Later**

Louis peers out from behind Josh and looks across at Harry, who’s looking very snazzy in his black suit, and smiles. Currently Eleanor is walking down the aisle in a very beautiful white gown, her eyes trained on Josh and a wide smile painting her face.

Louis looks back across at Harry and smiles at him, hoping Harry gets why he’s smiling so wide.

That’ll be Harry in a few months, walking down the aisle in whatever suit he chooses, and Josh and Louis will have switched places. The thought alone makes Louis feel like he could fall over from happiness any second.

Down at the other end of the aisle, past all the rows of chairs, is the 1971 Ferrari DINO, all back to perfection, that Harry gave to Josh and Eleanor as an early wedding gift, to which Eleanor insisted she ride to the wedding in.

In a few months, that’ll be Louis’ 1958 Corvette Stingray, grayish blue paint reflecting the sun. He and Harry both have agreed that that is their car—it’s the very first car they’ve ever rode in together, just them, and though it was under certain circumstances Louis would have rather not happened, he still feels as much of a connection to Stingy as Harry does.

It is also the very first and only car they’ve ever had sex in.

Louis pushes those thoughts away, smiles once more at his fiancé, and refocuses on the reception going on right in front of him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some links so you know what the cars mentioned looks like:
> 
> 1958 Corvette Stingray — [xx](http://pictures.topspeed.com/IMG/crop/201310/chevrolet-corvette-3_600x0w.jpg)
> 
> 1972 Ferrari DINO — [xx](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmvAWdpNYRg/TL9OajqgM-I/AAAAAAAAEAU/IzWJ52PgtrU/s1600/1972_ferrari_dino_246-pic-8459747671607755354.jpeg) and [xx](http://motoburg.com/images/dino--246-gt-03.jpg)


End file.
